Merlin: Wounded Redemption
by thedrunkenhellstomper
Summary: A year has passed since the Great Battle of Camlan and Queen Guinevere's Camelot is enjoying a time of peace and prosperity. A troubled and frustrated Merlin attempts to figure out life without his best friend and king and forgive himself for his death. Will a visit from the future help Merlin make things right? Or will the regrets of the past prove too great for our young warlock?
1. Merlin & Emrys

"_No man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. Some lives have been foretold, Merlin. Arthur is not just a king. He is the once and future king. Take heart, young warlock, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again._"

It had been a year since Merlin had heard the Great Dragon speak those words.

A year had passed since he had watched the ship carrying his best friend sail out into the waters of Avalon.

Yet after a year, the pain hadn't left him. His heart was no closer to finding rest. What had been the whole bloody point of it all if Arthur ended up dying in the end?

True, he finally had the recognition he had once longed for, he no longer had to hide who he was. The citizens of Camelot had praised him as a hero. Queen Guinevere had made him her personal advisor and the court magician. Gaius had not stopped mentioning how proud he was.

But, even with all the hoopla and fanfare, Merlin didn't feel like a hero.

_I've failed you_. _What's the point of having magic if I can't even save the ones that matter most? Most powerful sorcerer ever?_ Merlin snorted at the title he had gotten so tired of hearing about.

Freya, his love.

Gwayne, the comedian.

Lancelot, the brave.

Arthur, his closest friend.****

"Mordred," Merlin whispered. He painfully reminisced about the young boy who had been so eager to please his king, so eager to prove himself worthy before his fellow knights in the court. He shuddered at the memory of the part he had unwittingly played in the eager youngster's demise. In all his attempts to serve and protect his king and friend, Merlin had been inadvertently working out the prophecies stacked against him.

"Son of a Sidhe!" Merlin cursed. He threw the goblet against the wall, wine splattering everywhere in the midst of the dissonant clang.

His servant Uhrig ran in at a brisk pace. "Master! Is everything alright?"

Merlin smiled. "I'm fine, Uhrig." He remembered a time when he would have groggily protested having to go investigate a noise in Arthur's room in the late hours of night. Now, he longed for those days with all of his heart.

"Master are you sure, I thought I heard a –"

"Uhrig, really, I'm fine."

"Okay, master. But you know where to find me if you need anything" The door creaked to a close. Merlin was alone again, left to face the dorocha hiding in the scary recesses of his mind.

Wine didn't help. The life of the court tired him.

Merlin had no desire for women companions anymore. After all, why would he want anyone he cared about to share in his misery? No one could help him.

Hunnith, Merlin's mother, had been so worried about him that she had left Ealdor to live in Camelot. Gaius had told her the sadness was something that would pass with time, but Merlin knew better. His heart had taken too much.

He immersed himself in the business of the kingdom, poured out his life for those who needed his wisdom, his counsel, and dove headfirst into helping the poor who needed solutions when facing impossible situations.

The ban on magic had been lifted. And with it had come Queen Gwen's top priority: the rebuilding of trust between the magic community and the Royal Household of Camelot. She invested a great deal of time into this task, particularly interested in hearing the cases of orphans and widows whose loves ones had been executed during the Great Purge. As a result, she would often send Merlin as her personal emissary to the various villages in the countryside.

_She rules just like you, old friend, _Merlin thought. _Everything she does has you all over it._

The responsibilities of the Kingdom had not been enough to numb the pain. The citizens of Camelot knew him as a joyful young man, one who smiled and always offered his trademark humor. But only those closest to him knew the darkness that shrouded him, the deep, gray sadness that crippled his mind.

Kilgarrah's words ricocheted around in the hall of his memories. "_when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again._"

_What if I need you, Arthur? What if I can't be a fool without my clotpole?_ The choice of words actually made Merlin laugh for a few moments. The thing he missed most about his friend was the banter that they had shared in the seven full years that Merlin had served him.

Merlin sighed. _Maybe for once, I'll try to sleep_.

He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow. Tomorrow was the one year anniversary of the Battle of Camlan and Guinevere was throwing a feast to honor Merlin and the remaining knights. For the first time in a long while, he was about drift off into a somewhat peaceful slumber, when the clang of the goblet was heard again.

_"_What the wyvern…_"_ Merlin didn't have the chance to finish that thought. He nearly fell from his bed upon seeing an elderly, ivory-bearded man sporting a winter jacket and worn out Adidas sneakers, standing in the center of the room and staring directly at him.

"Emrys. Merlin. Younger self. Don't look at me like that! There's no time to be shocked. We have much to discuss."


	2. You Chose This

Morgana groaned.

It was happening again. The torment she had grown accustomed to, the torture that now seemed to fill every moment of her existence was beginning anew. The images of those who died at her hand flashed before her eyes, their voices crying out to her, calling her, begging her to have mercy.

"No. No! NO!" She cried out. "Leave me!"

Her pleads were in vain. The voices and shadows refused to afford her any rest.

"I didn't want this! Arthur left me no choice! If I didn't stop him, he would have been just like Uther!"

The pain in her abdomen was excruciating. Not only did she hear the screams of people she had killed, but the moment of her death replayed in her heart over and over again.

"_Morgana, the time for all this bloodshed is over. I blame myself for what you've become. But this has to end."_ No matter how many times Morgana had relived this moment, she found that Merlin's voice remained just as harrowing as when she had faced him that night._  
_

"_I'm a high-priestess. No mortal blade can kill me." _She felt her stomach jolt at the thought of what was coming next.

The searing hot pain claimed her again.

"_This is no mortal blade._" She gasped in horror as if she was hearing Merlin say it for the first time. "_Like yours, it was forged in a dragon's breath._"

" Damn you Emrys." Morana coughed. "DAMN YOU." She pounded her fists into the wall, her knuckles caked with dried blood and grainy sand.

Her sojourn in this place had been enough for her to fill herself with hatred. When she first arrived, she had been keeping track of the time spent in this prison. Then, her thoughts had been consumed by the notion of what she would do were she given the chance to face Merlin again. But now, after finding that, here, time had become irrelevant, despondent rage filled the hole where remorse should have been.

Her ramblings grew more and more feverish by the hour, her time was spent justifying herself to an audience she couldn't be certain even existed.

"MERLIN! Emrys, you're the one who did this to me! All I wanted was for magic to rule again in Camelot. All I wanted was what was rightfully ours. And you had to go and spoil it. Where is your Arthur now! Now that wench Guinevere sits upon MY throne, wearing MY royal seal."

She had worked herself into a fit by now, her fists attacking the wall of her cell. She had scarcely done this for a few minutes when the wound in her abdomen became excruciating again. Horrifyingly entangled in agony's dance, she writhed on the stone floor, howling in pain.

Morgana's despair had grown into a cancer eating away at her very being.

She hated everyone and everything, especially anything to do with that, that Emrys. She shuddered at the thought of his name. But, in the few moments when Morgana's rage lifted and left her able to think clearly, when she was most honest with herself, she found she hated herself above all.

She hated herself for losing Arthur and Merlin.

Her rage for Uther and her loyalty to Morgause had taken over her long before she ever had the chance to tell those two how she felt about them. Even in this pit, she found herself regretting the way things had played out, finally longing for the chance to confess what she felt inside.

Needless to say, these moments were few.

Most of the time, Morgana was throwing tantrums such as this one, cursing everything and everyone in existence, denying her own responsibility for the disastrous way things had turned out.

After a while of beating her fists into a bloody mess, she lay in her cell silently, the chorus of tortured voices and the replaying of her final moments no longer as poignant.

"**_It breaks my heart to see you confined to this existence, to see you a prisoner in your own heart. You were never meant for this, My daughter._**"

Morgana sat up in her cell upon hearing the voice. It seemed to come from a place within her, a place she had forgotten even existed. Terror seized her as a bright light filled the entire cell.

"Who are you? Stand back! I have magic!" Morgana knew her threat was probably in vain, but the fact that she offered it showed how far she had fallen. Whatever or whoever this being was, it was clear that the magic coming from it, him, or her was much more powerful than what Morgana had known.

The voice laughed, though not at Morgana's expense. "**_Fear not, daughter of Uther._**" Morgana recoiled at the sound of that wretched name. The voice grew softer now, aware that it had hurt the High Priestess. **"_I am sorry, I do not wish you harm. I am not like the voices or the memories._**"

"How – How do you know about that?" Morgan trembled.

"**_Nothing happens here without My knowing, even if you have chosen to live apart from Me, to hide yourself from My love._**"

"Then you're the one who sent me here!" Morgana spat. "Go on then. End it! I can't take this anymore."

"**_No, Morgana,_**" The voice sighed sadly, "**_that's where you're wrong. I did not send you here. You chose this. You refuse to forgive, you refuse to let love in._**"

"Who are you?" Morgana gasped.

"**_The answer to that question will be found as quickly as you desire it to be. All you need to know for right now is that I am Light. I am Love. I am Magic itself. There is a Deep Magic even more powerful than that of the Old Religion, watching over all of creation. I want you free, Morgana, free from this prison you've locked yourself into._**"

The thought of freedom brought a small glimmer of hope into Morgana's heart. "Free?"

"**_Yes, free. This pain, this misery can all be over. It is not My will for it to last forever._**"

"How?"

"**_Let Love in. Forgive. Let go. Stop trying to prove yourself._**"

"I – I don't know if I can do that."

"**_Your answer is half true, My daughter. Alone, you will fail, for this prison is too mighty for you to rise from in your own power. But there is one who can help, one I am sending._**"

Morgana's heart leapt at the notion of being liberated from this dreadful place. "And who is this one, the person who will help me escape this place."

"**_You are already well acquainted with him._**" Morgana's face curved into a scowl, her eyes now narrow slits. "The voice continued, ignoring her disgust. "_T**he one called Emrys.**_"

"Emrys? Emrys! I would rather stay here than to ever accept charity from that one."

"**_I was afraid you would say that._**" Pain could be heard in the voice's every enunciation. "**_Then I must leave._**"

"Wait! Where are you going? You know well what will happen if you leave me here. Alone."

"**_I know. Parting is difficult for Me as well My dear._**" The voice paused for a second, as if a pair of unseen eyes paused to gaze lovingly upon Morgana. "**_But fear not, My daughter. I will return. I shall make everything right again. You'll see._**"

The light faded from the cell and the peace that Morgana had felt had lifted. Soon the voices would return, along with the pain in her abdomen and the violent memories.

"Emrys."

Morgana snorted, returning to beating the walls of the cell with her fists.

"Emrys."


	3. In a Land of Myth, In a Time of Magic

Wide-eyed, Merlin stared at the man in front of him. Long ivory beard? Check. Heavily wrinkled face? Check. Tallness? Check. Weird, creepy old guy who looks like you in sixty years? Merlin sighed. Check.

Merlin tried to deny the possibility of his future-self standing in the middle of his room and staring him in the face, attributing this apparition to his having had too much wine, to his grief-stricken state, but in the end he gave in. This was just too weird for his mind to conjure up.

"You like it, son? This is what all the cool people will be wearing in eight hundred years." Old Merlin pointed at his worn out Adidas sneakers, winter jacket and the black skull cap on his head.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Let's get one thing straight. Don't call me son. And first of all, how do I even know you're actually me."

Old Merlin laughed. "It's started already."

"What's started already?"

"You turning into the cynical old bastard I am."

Merlin snorted. "Whatever, you still haven't answered my question, creepy old man."

Old Merlin's eyes narrowed. And he stepped closer to Merlin's bed. "No, you get one thing straight. I did not come all the way from the bloody future to indulge the whims of a toddler who hasn't even tapped into his magical potential yet! We have much more important business to attend to."

Merlin smirked. "Answer the question. How do I know you're me? You could be anyone, a druid, someone loyal to Morgana who wants revenge. How do I know – "

"ENOUGH!" Old Merlin's long silver hair wiggled vigorously under the skull cap as if animated by a violent wind. His blue eyes changed to a glowing jaundice as he violently thrust out his hand in a fierce rage. "Anipsono levitaris!"

Merlin was ejected up from underneath the covers of his bed and suspended into the air. "Get me down from here!"

"Now, boy, you listen to me! Just because you're the younger version of me DOES NOT mean I'm here to coddle you! Understood?"

Merlin nodded.

"UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Yes. Yes." Merlin nodded in fear.

He fell back onto his bed.

Old Merlin's voice grew somber, his volume much more subdued. His eyes seemed to look past Merlin, as if searching for somewhere far away, another time, another land. "I'm trying to save you from becoming what I am. I don't want you to know what it's like to wander the earth for hundreds of years, condemned to wait for something you're not sure will ever happen. All the while all you can think about is how you've let him down, how you failed to save her."

"Her?" Merlin's eyebrows arched up.

"Freya." Old Merlin whispered.

The sound of that name pierced Merlin in the center of his chest. He found himself scarcely able to breathe. Tears began to stream down his cheeks. In an instant, he was sobbing.

Old Merlin came closer. "Shhhh." He whispered. He put his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "It's okay. Believe me, if anyone understands, I do."

There had been nights in the past few months when Merlin had filled himself with too much wine and collapsed on the floor, screaming out only one name until Gaius or his mother had come, or even sometimes Gwen herself, and rocked him to sleep.

Arthur's death had rocked Merlin at his core, convinced him he was a failure at protecting the ones he loved when it counted most and as a result he had begun to loathe himself for letting Freya die. Sure, she was the Lady of the Lake now, but he had no way of seeing her, no way of looking into her beautiful eyes and feeling the touch of her soft lips, the warmth of her breath on the hairs of his neck.

Old Merlin continued to hold Merlin in his arms, "I'm sorry I had to bring her in this, you left me no choice. You wouldn't have believed me otherwise."

Merlin nodded and tried his best to regain composure. When he had stopped crying he sat up on his bed and looked at Old Merlin. "So in the future I'll be immortal?"

"Yeah and it'll be a miserable time, riddled with regret and even more booze than you're drinking now, if we don't do something about it."

Merlin sat up suddenly. "What do you mean, do something about it?"

Old Merlin snorted, "You think I came all this way from the future, missed my morning walk around Lake Avalon, just to tuck you in and tell you stories about how much of an old drunken bastard I am? It takes a lot of magic to time travel. There's only one thing on my mind: making everything right. Arthur, Freya, Gwaine, Lancelot, Mordred, none of them should have died. We have to bring them back."

"Bring them back?" Merlin gasped. "But the prophecy said Arthur was going to die at Mordred's hand. Kilgarrah told me –"

"I know what Kilgarrah said. I was there, remember?"

"Right. Sorry, this is too much for me. I tried so hard to stop the prophecies. I did everything I could, but in the end, nothing mattered. I was the one making them all come true." Merlin was about to cry again when Old Merlin slapped him soundly across the face.

"What's the matter with you? With us? Is this the man who saved Camelot more times than anyone could count?"

Merlin, stared at his older self, shocked at what had just happened. "Did you just –"

"Yeah, I slapped you, now get over it. Merlin, you're the most powerful sorcerer that ever lived and you bow your knees to a bunch of prophecies? At what point did we decide that destiny would rule over us. At what point did we decide to lie down and take whatever treatment fate was pleased to give us?"

Merlin's face filled with confusion.

Old Merlin continued. "Merlin how many times did we save Arthur from certain death?"

"A lot."

"How many times did you, an eighteen year old boy, stop people who had been using magic for decades, maybe even longer?"

"Many times."

"So you're going to tell me, that after all those adventures, all those years spent saving Camelot, you're going to bend over and let a prophecy from some old ladies about how Arthur was judged by some goddess, stop you from saving your best friend?"

Merlin stopped and thought for a second, his older self was actually making a good point. "I never thought of that."

"I know you didn't. By the way, just so you know, there's going to be a show in the future on this thing called television about you, about us."

"What's television?"

"Right, forgot what time period I'm in. Don't ask me to explain all the ins and outs because you won't have a grid for a lot of them, but basically television is this rectangular contraption in people's homes that projects images. A show is basically a thirty minute play."

"About me?"

"Yep. And get this, every time the show comes on, it has Kilgarrah's voice saying," Old Merlin raised his eyes to the ceiling in mock seriousness, "'In a land of myth, in a time of legend, the destiny of a great Kingdom rests upon the shoulders of a young boy. His name? Merlin!"

Merlin's eyes flashed with glee. "And you said the future was depressing?"

Old Merlin hit his face with his palm. "Aye ya yae. I forgot that you're almost just as obnoxious as I am."

Merlin frowned playfully. "Alright, so about saving Arthur, Freya, all that important stuff? How does that work? I remember Nimueh saying a long time ago that the laws of the Old Religion decree when you bring a life into the world, another one has to be taken out. I love Freya and Arthur, but I have to say I don't want to take that chance. Whose life is going to be taken? Gaius'? My mother's?"

Old Merlin smiled. "Yes, the Old Religion says that. But there is magic even stronger than that of the Old Religion, older than the earth itself, the likes of which most people, even the Great Dragon Kilgarrah, have only heard spoken of and never actually seen with their own eyes. Long ago, the prophecies spoke of a Great Teacher from another realm. This magic I am speaking of is his very essence."

Merlin's eyebrows raised once again. "And where do we find this Teacher?"

"The Spirit realm. We have to go the spirit realm."


End file.
